Who I Really Am
by Shadowdragon1317
Summary: For centuries, Merlin has been waiting for the return of The Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon. With the fall of modern age happens and sends the world into the dark ages, Arthur has returned. But what the pair does not expect is that Morgana has been behind it all. And can Arthur truly come to terms with Merlin's true identity as Emrys? (FxM and AxG only!)
1. Chapter 1

**My first Merlin story, so please no flames! I just couldn't stop thinking about this story until I finally got it going! Hope you like it!**

**By the way, this is just the prequel.**

**Enjoy!**

The wind in whistled its merry little tune over the forest that early fall day, giving the trees the encouragement to stretch their branches ever closer to the sun. The chirping of the birds merged with this song of the wind, turning the soft voice of the air into a symphony of sound. Sunlight stole away in the crevices between leaves and branches, leaving the ground as spotted as a dog.

Leaves that had turned lovely shades of gold and red flew from their perch upon the branches and moved in the wind as if taken by the spirit of the music. The breeze seemed light and cool, giving the day a feel of late summer. Yet only one place escaped untouched from the beauty and joy of the season of autumn, the Lake of Avalon.

Over the small overhang above the lakebed, was long grass soaked with the glistening morning dew. It sparkled and wavered like a liquid jewel. The smaller droplets gathered in the center, which steadily grew heavier and heavier. The blade of grass drooped lower, closer to that private pool of sorrow. Eventually, the dew slithered down and fell into the lake with a small sounding _plop_, joining its brethren below.

Water rippled in tiny waves because of the sudden disturbance. That moving water started to ripple even more do to the air dancing across the glassy surface. The leaves lost their sway and fell into the lake's grasp, covering the surface with the fallen colors of the oaks surrounding it.

The equinox never has, and never will, touch this cursed and blessed graveyard. Neither could the barren cold of winter or the warmth and beauty of summer and spring respectively. The atmosphere above the Lake of Avalon was suspended in time, back when life of myth and wonder ruled and nothing could explain the magic erupting from the very heart of this great land. Though modern society convinced everything with science. But to know the past is to know the future in this case.

One of the few people who lived and practiced this ancient art of magic was now in tune with the very life force of the Lake. All she could do now was to watch and observe through her water, to see what has become during the modern age. _Or,_ she thought to herself, _to see what has become of my beloved Merlin._

Freya's raven hair trailed behind her in waves, as dark chestnut eyes scanned through the only way she could see the modern age of man; puddles and raindrops. Faces upon face stared back, but to her disappointment, none belonged to the old sorcerer.

None can see her, yet she recognized many hundreds of faces. Then she saw a flicker of white whiskers out of the corner of her eye. Hope filling her, Freya turned to see the aged face of Merlin.

His ancient eyes were still the bright blue that she remembered them being. Except the happy, grinning face was long gone, replaced by a great sadness in his eyes. Since his friend, King Arthur had passed into the realm of the Spirits and died in his arms, Merlin had that sadness hunting his steps for centuries. Emrys had never forgiven himself for magic causing his friends' deaths.

Having gnarred hands, Merlin clutched an old oaken walking stick to help him get along. He was heading up a long misused paved road to the middle of the former sight of the kingdom of Camelot.

Unfortunately, with the decline of the Pendragon family, the castle had soon followed. The final damage by human hands was done in the Crusades, with the fighting by cannon fire had finally made the old castle crumble. It had withered and died away like a plant in the hot sun.

All that remained of the castle of Camelot was a few lonely stones to mark the places where brave knights had fallen. To everyone else, it was known as Stonehenge.

Merlin walked, rather hobbled, to pay tribute to the great stones as today was a terrible day in his memories. It was the anniversary of the Battle of Camlann, the terrible battle that took away much of his friends and family.

Merlin kneeled to the stones, a single tear escaped from his eyes and dropped to the ground, which drank it up quickly. A long thought dead memory resurfaced, making a small smile appear on the old man's face.

"You always thought me a girl for expressing my feelings, you old clotpole." he chuckled softly, seemingly swimming in lost ages. He regained his wits when a bird cawed in the distance. Merlin bowed once more and left for the forest.

There was one last thing he wanted to accomplish for his long gone family.

Merlin knew exactly where the Lake of Avalon was hidden. He knew it so well he could walk there blindfolded. To all others, it would be a miracle of great proportions to be able to find it and make it back to civilization unscathed and unharmed.

Merlin knelt to the ground, right by an ancient canoe that had lived long last her prime. But to the old man, it looked too much like the boat in which he sent many on their way to the realm of the dead.

He muttered some phrases in the language of magic, and a large trunk appeared out of oblivion. Merlin couldn't help but smile on how well his magic had gotten over the centuries.

He opened the chest and many gifts appeared before him. He started to take them out one at a time.

"A lily, for Gwen…"

Her favorite flower, as Arthur once told his manservant to get her a bouquet of them for her birthday. Merlin put the lily in the small canoe.

Gwen too had passed several years after Arthur, after finally leading Camelot out of the darkness Morgana wrought.

"The flag of Camelot, for Sir Lancelot."

Lifting the small banner over his head, Merlin laid the flag onto the other end of the canoe, dragon side up. He remembered when the honorable knight first made his way into Camelot. His eyes were full of hope…

Merlin shook his head. The way he had survived so long was not because of his duty, which he cherished, but by not delving too deeply in old memories. As all of them lead up to the Terrible Battle. All they brought him was more pain.

"A rose, for…" his throat constricted, making the old wizard choke on unwanted tears.

"For my beloved Freya."

Delicately, Merlin placed the flower over the dragon's heart.

"A forge hammer, for Sir Elyan."

Merlin placed it underneath the lily.

"A pint of old ale," Merlin laughed quietly, "For Sir Gwaine."

"And finally, a sword of ancient battles fought long ago, for my ki…" he paused for a moment, thought better of it, and then said,

"For my greatest friend, The Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon."

He placed the sword next to Gwen's lily. It took all of Merlin's strength to not fall down and weep. He shouted the magic words through the sadness hanging over him, his old magic starting and gold eyes flickering. The boat cast off the shore and sailed into the center, where Merlin set the little boat on fire.

The flames flickered and sparked, eating at the gifts that Merlin had given them in the spirit world.

"Hail, Queen Guinevere!" Merlin shouted, mourning and proud at the same time.

"Long live Sir Lancelot!"

"Long live Sir Elyan!"

"Long live Sir Gwaine!"

"Long live Lady Freya!"

Merlin broke down sobbing as the walls to his emotions slowing crumbled like Camelot's walls. His pain and torment took its hold, with tears streaking down his face and falling into the Lake of Avalon. All had died by his side. And Merlin could never forgive himself. But that didn't stop him from screaming to the heavens,

"HAIL KING ARTHUR! LONG LIVE THE KING!"

**I hope this was a good first chapter! I won't be here for a few weeks, so leave lots of reviews! :)**

**Review Question: Was this good for a start?**

**Dragon Out!**


	2. The Darkness of the Mind

**I know it has been awhile since I had updated, but here is the second chapter! I must thank my brilliant beta, Adeliade for helping me make this chapter better for you! To all of you who reviewed, favorited, or followed my story, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I think you guys are amazing!**

**I do not own Merlin, for if I did, the ending of the series would not be that stupid.**

Merlin had long ago learned the ancient laws that the water lapping at his near-bare feet can take who the earth wants and needs. Or it can safely let them be. And that is why the aged warlock was so deftly afraid of that bottomless blue water standing in front of him. Though he knew that Freya was the Lady of this lake, he hated that it took so many of his friends and family on their journey to the realm of the spirits. Life could be restored here, but just as easily it could be taken away.

After the boat carrying the gifts he sent to his friends beyond in the spirit world, after the ashes had blown away and scattered across the glassy water, the old sorcerer could no longer look at that translucent surface. Too many times he had sent those he loved and cherished to its depths, knowing that they may never rise again. And it had weighed heavy upon his old and frail heart. Merlin knew that he could've saved every one of those beneath Avalon. Yet his destiny had forbidden him to be happy. For every time he finally felt like he was wanted, or even loved, always someone had to die. The first had been Freya...

"What is it that I've done wrong?!" Merlin shouted as unwanted tears kept dropping one by one into the Lake. He hated his destiny. Loathed it. _Despised _it from the very pit of his soul. He had never hated a thing in his life. Not even Morgana when she and Mordred had killed Arthur. _That is because I had part in the monster she had become._

Rage filled in the holes of his heart that had been torn open time and time again almost mercilessly, the openings where his family and friends once resided. He raised his hand, which had grown shaky over the many millenia, and slammed it down into the lake bed. The water gave way easily despite the weakness of Merlin's fist. It made his reflection waver unsteadily in the water.

Merlin fell to his knees, weakness blossoming in his legs. The energy that led him to that tirade was gone. He couldn't stop staring at the water that swallowed many of his friends into its endless depths, deeper than even the Sidhe could ever reach.

"Why is it that my family must suffer under the burden of my destiny?" he whispered harshly. No matter how many times Merlin had given up his happiness to help Arthur, fate had decided to be ever the cruel mistress. Lancelot had given up his life because of it. Freya was tempting Merlin to neglect his duties as Arthur's protector, so she had been taken as well.

Names upon names circled his thoughts like how a buzzard circles the dead. He wiped the tears from his blue orbs. He knew that of amount of sadness could ever be enough to bring them back. Yet the grief clung to him, feeding off his sadness and loneliness like a tick. It had turned that bright, happy young warlock into a bitter old man. Grief had stolen his good nature, and made him cry unwanted tears for the past friends who were gone.

So Merlin left the Lake of Avalon soon after. Arthur had told him one thing that kept running through his mind several times over. It was to never cry over any man. Even though that man had been his brother...

* * *

The lake lapped its waves upon the shores in a fevered intensity. They greedily licked up the dirt and sand and left sparkling shells in their place. But even as it trades ugly things for beautiful ones, there were some secrets that it kept hidden for a reason. And those were the ones that kept others intrigued with the Lake of Avalon. The legends enticed them, sparked their taste buds with adventure. But many who had found the Lake had wanted to take the treasures, or destroy the precious waterbed. So the water had taken more lives, to keep the haunting secrets safe.

At those muddy, dirty depths held many of the treasures of those past ages. They were captured from the time of knights and chivalry. It also kept those safe from the tides of time. One of which was the Once and Future King of Camelot. And one day, of Albion.

His body was youthful, shielded from the strains and hardships of the centuries that had eluded him. Arthur's mind remained sentiment, but did not know of the amount of time that he had escaped from. Nor of the costs of the battle of Camlann or that his own heart had stopped beating.

Life had yet to pulse from his long dead fingers, but it soon will once again. As Albion's time was fast approaching and she couldn't survive without the command of her king. Tyranny and sorrow would've ran through the streets, brother verses brother at each others' throats. But that will never happen. The Once and Future king will prevent it. And that king would soon rise from Avalon's depths and regain the throne that he had lost...

It seemed he had reached the end of his time as king of Camelot. Either that or he was heavily drunk upon entering another contest with Gwaine. Arthur would've rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and once again having his servant being correct about ale consumption. Prat, Merlin would always say. Then the king would've thrown the nearest thing in range at his smug little face. _Ah memories are such a sweet thing._

He felt chilled to the bone, even though the King felt furs draped over his shoulders. Arthur wanted to change position, to get warmth to seep back into his lifeless body. Instead his limbs wouldn't respond to his wishes, making him just lie there like a corpse prepared for the journey to death. It was as if his own body was waiting for something, though he had no idea what it might be.

His Majesty strained to get some control over his tormented thoughts. The last thing that Arthur could remember was that Merlin was crying after the Battle of Camlann. Tears of his servant had fallen, and Arthur could only know of one other time he had seen his servant this upset. Balinor's death. The King had told his servant afterword that no man deserved his tears. And even when Arthur had lay paralyzed in Merlin's tight grasp, his Majesty wanted to remind the young warlock of what he had said back then. But his lips could not form the words, his mouth seemed sewn shut. Then the King had been sentenced to this terrible confinement of blackness. Nothing ahead, nor behind like it was the end of time. Or the end of the world.

But Merlin would have never said, or even thought about a subject so dark like that. He would've said something like "Soon enough there'll be a light at the end of this tunnel."

Idiot. If Arthur's string of bad luck was upon him now, then there was a chance he'll be frozen in this shadow until the sun had died.

_Oh god almighty_, Arthur prayed with fear striking his heart, _please don't let me pass in a place like this. Don't let me die in Hell_.

But none could hear his pleas, so it seemed. Didn't everyone want him to complete a destiny? To unite Albion? Then how was he, only a King of his people, be able to be the Once and Future King everyone expected him to be if he was trapped in this unrecognizable wasteland. And to be completely honest with himself, his supposed fate had terrified Arthur a great deal. Even his manservant has put his own life into this cause.

Then the King's mind jumped to Merlin's secret that had been revealed before the darkness. A warlock? Merlin?

The daft, clumsy oaf (who happens to be his most trusted friend) had been keeping that big of a lie since the moment he was born? It still seemed like a cruel and stupid joke. It still was, one played by the universe.

And yet it was the undeniable truth, no matter how unbelievable.

Not for the first time, Arthur reflected on how powerful his servant must be. To control dragons? Maybe. Certainly. To take over Camelot? With great ease. He was even more powerful than his half-sister Morgana.

And yet, Merlin hasn't abused the power given to him. He has not gone off to take the Pendragon throne and rule Camelot with an iron fist. Uther had told his son about the many crimes magic users have wrought against the kingdom since the beginning of time, and in his own rule. That every person that owned magic was, is, and always will be evil and corrupt.

Then why is Merlin so loyal? Instead of being a king, he chooses to muck out stables and shine Arthur's boots.

Faithful, loyal, brave, and courageous...

The things so different from sorcerers, from Morgana but things to describe his manservant (though The King would never admit it). Was it possible that magic didn't define your person, but its just an extension of yourself?

Intricate thinking had taken Arthur's interest quickly. It was thoughts like that was all that kept Arthur from tumbling down into the endless nothingness known as madness. It was distracting him from the horrible darkness that was keeping him captive. A King held captive by death, yet not in the spirit world or in the realm of the living.

Little did the King know, as his mind had gone fuzzy for those hundreds of decades, that a spark sputtered near the back of his field of vision. And that little flicker of light grew bigger by each passing moment. The power of it also intensified tenfold. Finally Arthur noticed, and when he saw the now filling tunnel of silvery-gold light, a tiny smile formed upon his features. He blinked and slowly his limbs woke from their long slumber in the depths of Avalon Lake.

A solid object solidified in his aged hands, cool, hard, and metallic. At once without a glance, the King knew it was his sword forged in a dragon's fire. Excalibur had been awoken as well as its master.

Just as he gripped his loyal sword, Arthur felt himself rise from the position he'd been at for this long millennia. Bubbles escaped from his nose and mouth, and yet there was an endless supply of oxygen. He felt giddy, like that first swig of ale. In the words of Gwaine of course.

Sunlight trailed and snaked its relentless way through the murky water of Lake Avalon, reaching his eyes.

Calm, warmth, and hope.

Those were the only things his spirit felt, and Arthur was glad. He would finally escape his inner hell at long last. Teetering on the small edge of insanity. But alive nonetheless.

The King also started to regain the control of other parts of his body. His fingers twitched, moving sluggish and slow at first, but then the warmth returned to them. He started to claw and kick his way to the world, fully prepared to fight for it. But of course, there was no trouble.

Just as his face broke the glass-like surface, Arthur Pendragon thought about himself, but also about his manservant.

_Merlin, my faithful, loyal idiot. You were right for once, in your rare spouts of wisdom. The light at the end of the tunnel, it's right there._

_You were right, old friend._

**I hope the ending wasn't bad! Please R&R!**

**Review Question: What did the chapter's name mean to you?**

**Dragon Out!**

**Oh, and before I go, I must wish my dear best friend Midnight1234, a very happy early birthday! **

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIDNIGHT-CHAN!**


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